


Mythic Bitch is Revived

by that_shera_chick



Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, redo fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-17 14:36:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21056033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/that_shera_chick/pseuds/that_shera_chick
Summary: Your typical first chapter of a heathers redo fic, but it's Chandler getting revived instead of Veronica.





	Mythic Bitch is Revived

**Author's Note:**

> tw: suicidal thoughts, mention of school bombing, suicide mentions, murder mentions, sexual assault & r*pe mentions, tbh almost everything that's been in heathers

_ The man in the trenchcoat- no, his name was Jason Dean. He was (a rebel, a rebel-  _ _ psychotic _ _ !) standing on the football field, arms held up, and a bomb was wrapped around his chest. He looked terrible - more like hell than Veronica.  _

_ Veronica might've been able to feel sorry for him, for even a single second, but Heather Chandler couldn't. Heather Chandler, who was standing next to Veronica, who was dead, who had read her suicide note that was plotted by him - all him, couldn't feel sorry for the man who had taken away her life before it ever really began. Before she got to break up with that college guy. Before she got to actually find out what she felt for McNamara, or before she got to help McNamara out of her lifeboat, onto shore. Before she got to actually realize how much Duke had meant to her, because Chandler actually cared about her  _ _ so much _ _ but she sure as hell didn't express it. _

_ (Because if she did, Duke would've gotten help. If she did, Duke wouldn't be filling in Chandler's shoes - wouldn't be so mean. If she did, Duke wouldn't have prayed every night for Chandler to die.) _

_ And Chandler's note- the note that she didn't write, that was written by Jason Dean, because he couldn't have known about the hundreds she had written before, was spread around. She never lived to her “full potential”, she had instead become the girl who committed suicide in her junior year. No one would remember her as the girl everybody wanted as a friend or a fuck. No one knew who she really was, no matter how much they analyze “her” suicide note. _

_ She couldn't feel sorry for this horrid man, not after reading what he wrote for her when she passed, what he made Veronica forge. Not after seeing what they (Veronica didn't know, it's not her fault- is it?) did to Kurt and Ram, even if what those two did was terrible. She couldn't feel sorry for him after he tried to kill Duke, and then felt no remorse for McNamara. Not after he tried to blow up the school with the bomb that's currently strapped to his chest.  _

_ She hopes he burns in hell - if it even exists, that is. If it does, she'll be right next to him and she'll mockingly repeat Veronica's words, the words muttered after cries of “Our Love is God,” and the last ones he'll hear before it's over for good: _

_ “Say hi to god.” _

_ The bomb explodes. The sound of it is the last thing Heather Chandler hears, and the blast is the last thing she sees before the dark consumes.  _

_ It's over for good. _

_ Or maybe it's just a new beginning.  _

□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□

It's three AM. Heather Chandler's digital clock next to her bed screams it; the red color standing out against the black background. Heather Chandler can't stop staring. She won't stop staring. If she did, she'd have to be faced with her room, the room where she died and was reborn through a faked suicide note. The glass table she fell through, her vanity - the paper that held aforementioned suicide note. They wrote it on her vanity, the same vanity where Heather Chandler did Veronica's makeup for the first time. The same vanity where they'd talk for hours about boys they were crushing on, but the demon queen was eager to talk about  _ girls. _ If Veronica wasn't afraid of her at the time, she  _ would've _ spoken about girls. Of course, Heather Chandler couldn't knew that while speaking about her  _ college boyfriend _ .

The same room where the Heathers would have sleepovers, where they braided Veronica's hair for the first time. Where they'd get ready for parties  _ together, _ almost always inseparable when they'd arrive.

( _ Except for those nights where Chandler would go to the Remington parties - alone. Where her “boyfriend” would lead her to a room off to the side, tell her that she's beautiful - and she'd be a fool and she'd believe him and she'd swallow back her tears and let him take her one more time. When she'd leave, avoiding the mirrors because if she saw her face and her body tonight she might just jug down drain cleaner because she isn't beautiful, she's disgusting, she'd only let her break down in this room. Without her “friends” - her friends who didn't even like her. Alone.) _

She wasn't ready to face it yet, because if she had to she might just believe it. She might just believe that it's okay, that nothing happened. That she wasn't killed by her best friend, and that trenchcoat freaks didn't run around shooting jocks and forging fucking suicide notes.  _ God, _ it sounds ridiculous. But it happened, she's sure of it. It felt too real for it to be fake. It wasn't blurry, or not understandable like her other dreams. She could read in it. You can't read in dreams! It had to be real - Chandler can't be going mad. She wouldn't let herself.

Heather Chandler was the “demon” queen of Westerberg, the (better, so much better) Regina George of Sherwood, and she was  _ not  _ going crazy. She had been reborn, or she had been sent back in time. She can't take her eyes off of the clock long enough to tell - the clock which was now reading 12:00 AM. 

She knows she has to get up, has to figure this shit out, but it's the witching hour. She can't tear her eyes off of the clock, because she's afraid of what she'll see it she does. It's dark and scary, and that sounds  _ so  _ pathetic, she knows. But it's just dark enough that you can almost see the room -  _ her  _ room, the room where she  _ died -  _ as a boiler room. Creepy, and the perfect place for someone to put a Norwegian. A Norwegian that would set off the bomb, killing every single student upstairs. Cutting their pep rally short. Maybe that's what that guy in the trenchcoat is doing in the corner, the new kid who shot blanks in the cafeteria -  _ JD. _

Heather jerks her head to the corner, but no one's there. It's just her. Just her, in the room where she died and JD's the one who killed her. 

She picks up her cell phone, and turns it on. The bright light is blinding, and she wonders for a moment if she's being let into heaven. If the last fiftenish minutes was hell, but it was a mistake because she deserved to be let into heaven. It wasn't, because her eyes adjust and she's still  _ here. _

It's monday, which is terrible because

  1. It's twelve twenty am and she isn't planning on getting any sleep tonight.
  2. That's terrible because Spring break is over, and she has school tomorrow- well today.
  3. Tomorrow- _today _JD is coming for his first day of school, and everything goes to hell.

Heather Chandler has no fucking idea why she's here, but if the date on her phone is right ( _ March 18) _ then she's going to die if she doesn't do something. She's gotten a second chance at life, and this time  _ no one  _ is going to die. Except  maybe that fucker JD. 

So, she stands up and flicks on the light. Her room,  _ the room where she died _ , is exactly how it was before the “incident”. It's almost as if nothing happened, except  _ so much  _ has. 

She stands in front of the mirror, and cringes at her appearance. Yeah, this is real. She wasn't reborn or some bullshit, she's here. She's here, and in the last timeline or whatever she died on Saturday.  _ This  _ Saturday.

  
Chandler has a lot of work to do if she wants to prevent that, and for once -  _ she does. _


End file.
